


Enough

by wyse_ink



Category: Psycho-Pass
Genre: Broken Promises, F/M, Longing, One Shot, Sensuality, Sexual Content, Uncertainty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 18:05:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4797092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyse_ink/pseuds/wyse_ink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As she leans against the railing and looks up at the stars, she remembers their conversation the night before. It had been the first time he’d ever shown his vulnerable side to her, and the reality had taken a while to sink in. </p><p>Alternate version (one shot) of the movie in which they get to spend more time together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enough

     Akane struggles to break free of his grip. He’s pinned one of her arms behind her back and pulled her into a tight mock choke hold. It’s not strong enough to have any effect on her other than restraint, but she feels lightheaded. She kicks at his shin, and he avoids the strike with a quick step backward. In a flash, she drops her weight and shoots her leg back again and her calf brushes his as she nearly gets the lock, but he evades her again. Though her back is turned to him, she can sense the smirk that’s crossing his face. It’s confirmed the minute she hears his voice and feels his warm breath against her neck.

     “Give up yet?”

     She tightens her grip with her free hand on his arm and keeps her chin buried in his elbow. In an instant, she drops her weight and rotates her hips, trying to step behind his leg, but her locked arm prevents her from being able to rotate properly. Her attempt fails. He lets her go.

     “I nearly had it,” she protests.

     “You did,” he says. His voice is genuine. “You have good instincts.” She suspects that he wants to say more, but he stays quiet for a moment, his eyes distant. “You’ve practiced a lot,” he says finally. She can’t help but notice that there’s something else on the edge of his voice.

     “I’d be foolish if I didn’t,” she says simply. He doesn’t need to tell her, but she doesn’t need him to understand. They both know how much has changed in their time apart. She’s grown tougher and learned to fight on her own. Due to past circumstances, she’s had to put these new facets of her being into practice.

     But Akane’s never been one to dwell in the past. She squares her shoulders as her breath returns to normal. “Again?” As he faces her in a closed stance, she tries to clear her head. Trying to predict his first move will do her no good. He’s too experienced to telegraph any of his movements, so she takes her stance and waits for him to act.

     His hand shoots out and she redirects the strike easily. In the same motion, she uses the momentum to grab his shoulders and pull him into a knee strike. He makes a move to deflect it, and she immediately shifts again, ducking under his arm and locking his shoulder. With a sudden drop and shift in her weight, she pulls him around and puts all of her weight into the lock, forcing him to the ground.

     She realizes too late that the angle isn’t good enough.

     She feels him turn inward, starting to go for a back choke. She reacts without thinking. She rolls onto him, forcing him to his back with her momentum. It’s a clumsy motion, and one too easily countered, but it keeps her in the fight.

     Or so she thinks.

     For the first time, she notices his fist turned at an angle rested on her stomach. It’s a knife holding technique, she realizes, meeting his eyes. He looks back at her seriously. She knows what he’s thinking before he even says it. There were certain risks one had to take in a fight, but this one, she understands, had been too reckless. _No_ , she thinks, remembering what he’d told her so long ago, when she had only just begun learning the basics of self-defense. It was the takedown. She’d gotten too caught up in the moment in and started a power battle that had immediately put her at a disadvantage.

     There’s a tingle of heat flooding to her face at this realization, and she climbs off of him. He sits up slowly, his blue eyes studying her.

     “Nobody can predict the outcome of a fight,” he says gently.

     “Can a person predict the outcome in anything?” She stifles a laugh, though her question looms ominously between them. They both know too well the answer to it. It was something she’d had to learn quickly working with the MWPSB. Nothing in her line of work was ever predictable, and she knew it was even less so in his current lifestyle. They never have been normal, she thinks, and the world has always insisted on keeping them on their toes. Just once, she says to herself. Just once, she wishes the future weren’t such a mystery. She meets his gaze, taking in his broad shoulders and deceptively relaxed posture in her peripheral vision. _Even you could be gone in an instant. That’s how it always is._ Her heart feels like it’s twisting in her chest at the thought. If she blinks, he may disappear - an apparition or hollow shell of her memory.

     Her vision begins to blur, though she doesn’t feel like crying. Her eyes ran dry a long time ago.

     “Akane.” He reaches up and rests a hand on her shoulder, and she knows she’s been caught. She’s sure he mistakes her misty eyes as a sign of reminiscence, maybe even the pondering of her own question, and she intends to keep it that way. She’ll allow him to make his own interpretation. His eyes are searching hers, and she lets him find only a fragment of what he’s looking for. His hand sends a current through her shoulder that flows like a pulse through her body, his touch leaving a trail of heat. He rests his hand lightly on the side of her face, and instinctively, she leans into his touch that she’s craved for so long. It’s proof that he’s here with her - not a figment of her imagination - and that they’re both very much alive. There’s something strange in his eyes now, a fearful softness that she understands perfectly. An apology for something utterly human that neither one of them had ever truly controlled, and maybe never really wanted to.

     She’s being pulled toward him. Whether it’s his doing or something beyond either of their control, she isn’t sure, but when their lips meet halfway, she knows there’s no turning back. It’s gentle, and for a moment she allows his lips to guide hers, savoring his touch and taste. Her hands find their way to either side of his face as her lips part, willing him to deepen the kiss. He pulls her in closer to him without hesitation, taking only a second before obliging. Her mind grows numb as something more carnal begins to take over her. She shifts her weight and presses against him, her arms wrapping around his neck. She feels his strong arms snaking around her and the kiss turns soft again, his lips brushing hers once, twice, before finally separating from hers. Her body burns as they break apart, and she struggles to catch her breath. He catches his more quickly, his expression unreadable, and stands.

     “We should get some sleep,” he says, taking her hands in his and pulling her to her feet. For the first time, she notices that she’s shaking. She doesn’t respond, instead nodding once and watching him walk away. She holds onto the feeling that still lingers in her chest - the feeling of his heart beating against hers in a fast but steady rhythm.

     But the rhythm fades despite her efforts.

     As she clings to the feeling, it slips through her fingers and fades into nothing but a fragmented memory.

***

 

     Akane has a nightmare that night. Flashes of faces she knows too well, distorted and mutilated, haunt her. She’s falling deeper into the abyss, a heavy weight pressing against her shoulders. It drags her away from the light, pulling her farther into its depths, and she struggles to breathe.

***

     She wakes to the darkness in a solemn mood. She rolls over, glancing at the row of chairs that he’s sleeping in. At least, he’s pretending to be asleep. Her intuition tells her that he’s awake too. She sits up slowly and climbs out of bed, crossing the room to the window. She’d done this the night before and, without a word, he’d joined her. As she leans against the railing and looks up at the stars, she remembers their conversation the night before. It had been the first time he’d ever shown his vulnerable side to her, and the reality had taken a while to sink in. She’s always thought him utterly invulnerable - while never without conscience or feeling, Kogami had always been a symbol of strength in her mind.

     But he’s not without weakness, she thinks. He’s anything but invincible. Her chest tightens as this epiphany sinks in, and her mind shifts to their exchange only hours earlier. They’d both given into feeling, or maybe just accepted the inevitable truth that had been haunting them for so long.

     It scares her how easily that acceptance had come.

     She senses him before she even hears his footsteps. In her peripheral vision, she sees him lean against the railing, his stance as casual as ever. “Can’t sleep again?” he asks. She shakes her head no. He sighs and takes a step before leaning against the railing beside her. “You were talking in your sleep,” he adds gently.

     She smiles sadly. “And what did I say?” He falls silent for a moment, and she wonders if he’s trying to choose his words carefully, even though he doesn’t need to.

     “I see them too, every damn night,” he says finally. She remains quiet. “I didn’t know about...I’m sorry.” She senses an edge on his voice and turns to him. His brow is furrowed and his eyes are full of remorse.

     “You did what you had to do,” she tells him. “Anything that happened after that was my own responsibility.”

     “You shouldn’t have had to deal with it alone.” This renders her silent again. She wants to tell him that she hadn’t been alone - she’d had Ginoza, Shion, and Yayoi there to support her. She wants to tell him that Hinakawa and Saiga had been there as well, but she senses something else in his statement. She recalls how, at the time, she had felt entirely alone despite her friends and co-workers supporting her. It was a cruel and abstract facet of human nature, and it was something she knows he understands too well. She doesn’t try to convince him otherwise.

     Instead, she just says, “I wasn’t.” It’s a hollow response blanketed by false simplicity, but for the first time, she feels relieved. She rests her hand on his, her slim fingers intertwining with his calloused ones. She wonders if he’ll pull away, but instead, he accepts the gesture. It doesn’t matter right now, she thinks. _We’re both here_. Right now, neither one of them was alone. Something is creeping into her mind and takes hold, and it’s a thought – or maybe something more - that she no longer cares to suppress. It’s one that’s confirmed when their eyes meet again, and finally surfaces when he leans in toward her.

     She can barely remember what had happened in the brief moment that followed and is only vaguely aware of the wall she’s pinned to and his knee between her legs, though both help to support her weight as her knees grow weak. His silhouette blocks the moonlight as he kisses her again, once on the cheek before meeting her lips again. Her fingers grip the hem of his tight shirt, and she starts to pull it upward, her fingernails skimming his torso. He helps her with the last of it and as soon as he’s tossed it aside, his hands slip under the fabric of hers. Instead of freeing her from its confines, he grips her waist tightly and lifts her, and her legs wrap around him in response.

      _Promise me something_ , she wants to say, but her voice and will fail her.

     His lips brush the tender skin of her neck, taking advantage of the cut of her shirt.

      _Promise me that you won’t disappear again._

     Her fingers tangle in his hair and she exhales shakily, her control dwindling. When she feels his hands on her again - peeling away the fabric that’s been clinging to her flushed skin - she succumbs completely. He seems to sense this and carries her with him until her back makes contact with the soft sheets. The cool metal of his dog tag necklace brushes against her chest and causes her skin to quiver, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his skin as he presses his weight against her. Compared to him, it’s like ice.

     She feels his breath on her ear and she snakes her arms around his neck. His heart beats against hers in nearly-perfect synchronization, and she breathes him in, the smell of smoke and cologne nulling her lucid thoughts. He whispers something in her ear and she manages a small, absent nod, drunk on his scent and voice. They help each other shed the last of their clothes. She hooks her finger in the chain of his necklace and pulls him back to her, taking hold of a promise she knows neither of them can keep.

     For now, it’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> It's my first time writing something like this. It ended up being very different than what I'd intended. Also posted on my blog: http://psychosibyl.tumblr.com/post/129056987192/enough
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Psycho-Pass or its characters. All fan fiction works are non-profit and written and strictly for entertainment and/or character study purposes.
> 
> DO NOT PLAGIARIZE, RE-POST, ALTER, OR SUBMIT ANY PART OF THESE WORKS TO OTHER SITES, BLOGS, CONTESTS, OR PROFESSIONAL ESTABLISHMENTS.


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